


Scars

by Argo (I_will_say_oh)



Series: Scars [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Autism Spectrum, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Ligur is dead, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Semi-Public Sex, sex without love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 14:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_will_say_oh/pseuds/Argo
Summary: Hastur moved closer to Aziraphale, picking up the book and putting it aside. He comfortably placed his thigh on his lap, placing his palms on Aziraphale's chest. Angel watched him in surprise. He didn't understand what the demon wanted from him, and therefore he was silent, expecting what would happen next.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it's not too bad (I'm really sorry for my English)

Hastur moved closer to Aziraphale, picking up the book and putting it aside. He comfortably placed his thigh on his lap, placing his palms on Aziraphale's chest. Angel watched him in surprise. He didn't understand what the demon wanted from him, and therefore he was silent, expecting what would happen next. Hastur avoided a direct look, his black eyes only occasionally rose to him, after which Hastur again averted them. Awkwardness increased every second, Aziraphale noticed how Hastur began to breathe frequently, nervous. The demon tightly pressed his lips together and gripped his vest, still holding his hands on the chest of the angel, his cheeks turned pink. Aziraphale thought that Hastur was going to cry now. He was the first to break the silence and awkwardness, leaning forward in order to clasp Hastur across the waist and pull him, hugging. Hastur tried to push him away at first, but then his hands released his clothes and fell on the sides of his body. Head Hastur rested on the back of the sofa on which they were sitting, and Aziraphale felt his hot breath behind his ear and a little higher. From this goosebumps ran around the neck, sweetly bringing shoulders and giving languid tension in the lower abdomen. Aziraphale was even frightened, because usually such desires were peculiar only to demons. It was different with Crowley. With him, Aziraphale forgot who of them is an angel and who is a demon, and surrendered to his feelings and sensations when Crowley caressed him where Aziraphale himself would never have touched himself. But that was Crowley, and Hastur ...

Hastur came to his book store some time after the no-Apocalypse, and it was a pity to look at him. At first, Azirafel was frightened that Hell sent a demon to them to abduct and judge again, there were still fresh memories of the pipe blow that Hastur had awarded him, but when he saw that he had come alone, he became interested and, after a pause, even let him in. At first, Aziraphale wanted to quietly call Crowley, but then changed his mind. In the end, he is an angel and has great power to confront one single demon. Hastur silently entered, without taking off his shoes, walked along the carpet and plopped down on the sofa. Aziraphale restrained himself from commenting on the dirt left on the road, and sighed, thinking that so be it, he would use the miracle one more time, since it was still connected with the "activity of the demon." Hastur didn't tell him anything; he simply silently sat on the sofa, avoiding meeting his eyes. His appearance now seemed even more haggard than when Aziraphale saw him last time. His hair was disheveled and stuck together, as if someone had pulled it for them for a long time, so it even wounded. Aziraphale just now with excitement noticed that ichor, black in the demons, covered some parts of the head and was baked on the neck and face, like human blood. In his hands, too, it was like this, and everything in Aziraphale's chest tightened when he realized that the demon might have come to him for help. And the fact that he turned to him, and not to the demons, meant only one thing: he had nowhere else to go. Aziraphale moved excitedly towards Hastur, not paying attention to the haunted look that he immediately threw at him, and forgetting about disgust, sat down beside him. Close everything turned out to be even worse. Aziraphale suppressed an emotional exclamation when he saw how badly injured his guest was.

"Oh dear, who did this to you?", he asked, for a while even forgetting what he was talking to the demon, and felt a nervous tremor when he realized from his gaze that nobody was. He did this to himself.

Aziraphale with trembling hands began to carefully take off his clothes. Hastur surprisingly didn't resist, he obediently allowed to do everything with him, indifferently looking to the side. Aziraphale's heart was beating with excitement. It was in his nature to take care of others, especially those who came for help themselves. And now he was worried about Hastur no less than he would have worried about any other creature in a similar situation. Aziraphale regretted not taking Hastur to the room first, before undressing. Deep scratches and bites covered most of his body, some still oozing ichor dripping onto a sofa. Aziraphale, trying his best not to show his nerves, carefully helped Hastur rise and led him into his room. He was definitely not allowed to stay in the living room, and then Aziraphale would take care of the tainted things.

"Why did you do this to yourself?”, he asked quietly, carefully treating the wounds. He wasn't very skilled in the treatment of demons, but the knowledge that he used when he had to treat Crowley from time to time for six centuries was enough for him to take care of Hastur as well.

Hastur looked thoughtfully and blankly to the side. Aziraphale put him in a chair in his room, so that it would be easier to reach for all the scratches. He noticed that they were even on their backs. Also, many old scars were on his hands and shoulders, and looking at them he was horrified again. The demon often and weakly breathed under his touch, grimacing every time Aziraphale touched him, but was silent. When he finished with his back and turned to face, Hastur suddenly looked up at him and looked with his almost entirely black eyes. Aziraphale froze with cotton in his hands, still holding his chin. Hastur parted his lips as if he wanted to say something, but again made no sound. He silently continued to look into his eyes, even when Aziraphale afraid to look away, ran cotton on his lips and chin, erasing ichor. At the same time, his heart froze, because Aziraphale did not feel it at all, however, when this scene, which lasted only a couple of seconds, but felt like an eternity, ended, the heartbeat began to beat violently and loudly, so that Aziraphale was dizzy. It seems that this demon definitely emanated some special influence, otherwise Aziraphale couldn't explain this when he finished the treatment, barely holding on his cotton legs and with trembling hands.

Since then, Hastur has been with him for the third day. He still didn't utter a sound, and at first he just sat, using Aziraphale moving from room to living room and vice versa, and today he himself followed him in the shade, a little annoying and frightening it, but Aziraphale stubbornly endured, and even brought him cocoa to the living room when he decided to relax and read there.

However, they never touched the cocoa. It seems that Hastur already felt much better than the day before yesterday, he was recovering quickly. Although Aziraphale couldn't find out from him what led to this condition, he waited patiently. For three days, he even managed to become attached to the demon, it seems, even mutually. Sometimes he even caught himself thinking that he was in principle predisposed to love demons, of the angels he liked only ... to his shame, Azirafel could not recall a single example. Hastur's hands didn't tighten his sides, stroking his ribs through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. It was no longer like an ordinary hug, but Aziraphale didn't even think of stopping him. Infused with heat, he himself began to gently stroke him on the back. Hastur’s hair was still a little wet after a shower, in which Aziraphale was still able to drag him, not having the strength to carry the dirt in his house. The angel closed his eyes and breathed in the floral scent of the shower gel, which he used himself and which washed the displeased Hastur, who now rubbed his hot and fragrant buttocks on his knees, already letting his hands pass between his lower back and the back of the sofa. Aziraphale was so good that he forgot to moan when Hastur's lips pressed to his neck. It was as if a current passed through his body when Hastur also suddenly made a low sound, exhaling into a kiss and descending to his shoulder. Aziraphale squeezed him in his arms, allowing Hastur to kiss, lick and bite his neck. And then they pulled back, quickly unfastening their clothes on top of each other.

Aziraphale's 's hands trembled, his fingers didn't obey when he tried to cope with the buttons of his own shirt, which was now on Hastur. He didn’t succeed and Hastur seems to be too, but Aziraphale stopped him anyway when the demon tried to impatiently just tear his clothes on him. He quickly dealt with his fasteners himself, allowing Hastur, if he so wanted, to ruin the clothes on himself. With a sigh, Aziraphale followed the torn buttons on the floor and said goodbye to the shirt that he seemed to have just given.

Aziraphale threw back his head when Hastur, looking at him confusedly for a second, bent down again and kissed him, this time on his collarbone. Long fingers covered his nipples and Aziraphale nearly threw the demon off himself, leaning forward. He caught him under his hips in time, pulling him back to him and hearing his groan again. Between the legs it was already hot and sweetly run on, and Aziraphale couldn't overcome the urge to cling to Hastur with his whole body. He felt his excitement and squeezed his buttocks with his palms while Hastur caressed his nipples, and then cried out when he felt his cool palm under the fabric of his trousers. Hastur ran several times over his cock, tearing soft moans from his lips, and then rose on his lap, eagerly lowering his trousers from both of them. Aziraphale breathed abruptly and couldn't believe that a couple of days ago Hastur had impressed him as a demon incapable of active actions, and now he, flushed and excited, looked at his organ without hesitation, caressing himself. Remaining completely naked, Hastur returned to his knees and eagerly kissed his lips parted. He moaned a kiss and Aziraphale was dizzy and pulled in the groin, but Hastur stopped his attempts to touch himself, pushing his hands with his hands. In the end, he simply got up and then smoothly returned, and Aziraphale fell into a silent scream, feeling how hot, soft walls squeezed his cock. Hastur with a groan sank down at him, without resistance taking him to the end, apparently, this wasn't the first time he had been doing this and was still stretching himself now, during a kiss. Aziraphale reached out to his nipples with emotion, taking one in his mouth and stroking the other with his fingers, while Hastur began to move slowly, exhaling loudly. Aziraphale kissed him on the framed, long neck, collarbone and chin. He wanted to reach his lips, they were too far away now, and therefore he simply pressed his cheek to Hastur’s shoulder, gradually moving his hips towards him and feeling his wet, smooth head rub against his stomach with every movement.

Hastur held him tightly by the shoulders and set the pace he needed, Aziraphale choked in emotions and sensations, pressing the slender demon to his shoulder blades. He almost come when he thought that Crowley could just as well be sitting on him now, breathing inconsistently and substituting for affection, but lately he was somehow very busy, even for these three days he didn’t come and call. Aziraphale moved his hips and Hastur moaned over him, almost digging his nails into his shoulders, Aziraphale slightly bit him for this, from which Hastur paid attention to him and, looking from under his half-closed eyelids, kissed him again, eagerly licking the palate. Aziraphale watched his pink face, looked at his almost drawn out scars. He felt scars under his palms on his back and sides, they were probably still very painful, being imprints, somewhat physical, how much mental pain. Hastur moaned in his mouth, already moving almost desperately on his hips, but Aziraphale could only think about how much he must have been wounded sincerely, since he had hurt himself so much. Hastur, meanwhile, reached for his penis, but Aziraphale was ahead of him, clutching his trunk with his palm, and the othe hand clutching the demon to his back, while he clasped his head in his arms and pressed it to his chest, moaned high in his hair at the crown. Aziraphale come right after him, feeling the hot, demonic seed pour out into his palm.

Hastur still sat, breathing heavily, and shook, cuddling to him with his whole body. Aziraphale gently pushed him aside, replacing him on the sofa, belatedly realizing that he had already managed to clean it these days. His head was empty and pleasant, but he still couldn't forget his guesses on the subject of self-harm. Aziraphale thought that he could probably ask him now, since Hastur had cast his voice for the first time in three days, but when he turned to him, Hastur had again regained consciousness, covering his face with his hands. And, it seems, he even cried. Aziraphale hoped that he hadn’t done something wrong, he moved towards him, carefully hugging his shoulders and covering him with a plaid that had previously been hanging on the back of the sofa. Hastur allowed himself to be embraced and buried his face in his neck. His shoulders trembled and Aziraphale stroked him soothingly over them. He patiently waited for Hastur to reveal himself to him, but it seems he was not yet ready to say aloud about his grief. No matter what happens, it seems to have caused him severe pain. Maybe he even lost someone important, and in an attempt to drown it out, he almost lost himself.

Aziraphale tightened his arms around Hastur, who now clung to him, covering his eyes. He stroked his head and shoulders, feeling his warm breath on his chest.

The book and clothes were lying on the floor, another cocoa cooled on the table. Aziraphale had already forgotten when the last time he really drank it after he cooked it. He closed his eyes, sitting under a warm blanket and listening to Hastur's breath, and gave himself up to relaxed thoughts and an internal monologue. Well, he was going to rest anyway.


End file.
